When a serial killer leaves New York gripped in terror, the peaceful freedom of one Nida Nomura is ruined. Now that the one he has hid from holds the city's relative peace hostage, and Nida's own life is on the line.

Author's Notes: It's
time to end it. I'm sorry this has come. I really am. Tears and
such. But all good things must come to an end… And mediocre things
like this must too. A nice little epilogue to leave you all satisfied
and hopefully answer all your questions.

Then again… I've
never been good at leaving questions go answered. I'm far better at
making you ask them…

Epilogue:
Divergent Journeys

It was a quiet
cemetery, but it was not as if there was another kind. The somber air
of death and decay were hidden carefully behind carefully kept grass
and bright flowers left by the living, but it was still there. Any
person could sense it, any child teach you to fear it, and any sane
person was loath to think about the day they would be part of that
somberness. Even the grave markers and tombstones lacked the flair
and embellishments of older cemeteries or of those filled with people
willing to leave their mark. There was no black marble carved in
crosses, or pristine white angels standing guard. Just a few
averagely sized, averagely colored, averagely average stones.

Still, in every place
where the average gathered there was something different, something
that didn't fit in with the common, that stood out by being plainer
or simpler. This place was no exception. It came in the form of a
small, five by eight piece of granite with only a name and a date
engraved on it. No images etched, no sweet sentiments from the
family, nothing. Just the little piece of stone showing that yes,
there was someone there, even if they were barely worthy of the
attention.

Before this piece of
stone stood a man, his hands buried in the deep pockets of his long
white coat. Rain was coming down heavily, as if discouraging him from
visiting the barely marked grave, but even the plastering of blonde
hairs to his head, even water falling from his eyelashes in a mockery
of the tears another might have let fall, did not drive him away. He
was a very, very stubborn man, and he was determined to pay his
respects, despite his lack of respect for the deceased in life.

One out of the many
gods people claimed there to be in the world must have been smiling
down on the one who filled the grave too, for the blonde did not spit
or scoff or kick mud onto the pathetically small stone. Then again,
he had paid for the thing in the first place, so desecrating it would
almost be insulting himself. Besides, the person had been good enough
in life to be left alone in death, right?

"You're quite the
man of habit," a voice came from behind the blonde. Apparently the
mixture of rain and his deep thoughts had allowed someone to sneak up
on the normally jumpy man. He was hardly pleased with that, but
nothing could be done. So he continued to stare at the small stone,
ignoring his new company.

"Every year, same
time, same place, same silence," the observer said, remaining
behind the blonde.

There was now the sound
of rain hitting an umbrella, adding to the ambience of the place.
Fitting almost, that the rain made no sound on the stones, but
sounded beautiful when hitting that umbrella. The blonde hated that
beautiful sound. It didn't fit the cemetery at all. He wanted to do
nothing more than destroy the thing, kill the sound before it could
do something to interrupt his calm.

"I'm not leaving
you alone Almasy," the speaker said, amusement in his voice.

The name obviously had
the desired effect as the blonde whirled to look at this guest. He
didn't see what he was expecting, but what he saw was enough. Black
hair gathered up in a ponytail, gentle brown eyes that weren't only
gentle, but filled with sorrow and pain. Skin so pale white that next
to the black coat and in this gloom it seemed to glow. And the
slightest hint of scarring from burns at his neck where the
turtle-neck could not cover.

"Nomura…"

A smirk that was once
trademark to the Detective was thrown right back at him from the
asian. There was no real joy or humor behind it though, just that
sorrow that permeated the man.

"Now now Detective.
According to that stone you paid for, Mister Nida Nomura is four
years dead. You had him buried. There were witnesses to the fact…"

Seifer merely glared at
the man before turning back to the grave marker. Nida Nomura, it read
before the two dates, one four years before today. It was true. He
had paid for Nida's burial after his 'death' in the fire. After
all, he had saved Squall's life, even if he had to break Squall's
heart to do it. One had to look out for their friends, whether they
got along or not. Nida's family had offered to do it, had wanted
to, but Seifer had insisted. Only him and them knew of this though,
and somehow the man behind him.

"Do they count when
the coffin was closed? Because he was too 'badly burnt' for the
comfort of onlookers? Does that count as dead? Do they count as
witnesses?"

"You tell me Almasy,"
the man responded, moving to stand beside him. The umbrella was
shifted to cover them both, but Seifer was hardly grateful.

"He's not the same
you know," Seifer finally said, breaking the silence they had stood
in for almost five minutes. "No where near the same."

The other looked away,
unable to meet Seifer's gaze at this point. There was still guilt
there.

"It cannot be helped.
Rei is still at large. It is why Nida is dead. It is why Squall must
think Mister Nomura a killer and a liar. It must be done to keep him
safe."

This brought a chuckle
to Seifer's lips. Though his companion for the moment looked
applauded at his actions, Seifer didn't stop.

"The night Nida
died," Seifer finally said once he stopped, "Ellone told me
something like that. That Nomura wouldn't let him remain in danger.
That he wouldn't run. Tell me, sir, does death count as running?"

"Yes."

He hadn't been
expecting that answer, not in the slightest.

"Nomura was a coward,
and were he still upon this world he still would be. But there was
one saving grace I believe. At a point he stopped running from the
beast out of selfishness, and ran to death instead to save another.
Some would call that bravery."

"I wouldn't. I
could have protected Squall AND caught Rei if Nomura had worked with
me."

Silence again for
another few minutes before the man with the umbrella spoke up.

"Has Squall at least…
moved on in any way? Left the dead where they belong?"

Seifer nodded. "He's
gotten himself a new fling now. He doesn't talk very much, even to
his parents or Ellone, but he talks to me. He's afraid of trusting
the guy. Can you believe it? A man who has been betrayed and broken
afraid of trusting."

A flinch from the
guest, then, "Can you tell him something?"

"From you, or from
beyond this grave?"

"Tell him… Tell him
that he doesn't have to believe Nida was a great guy. Just that he
has to remember Nida stopped running for him."

The detective
nodded, but remained where he was as the umbrella was pulled away.
The asian man started off down the row of graves, pausing only when
Seifer called out.

"Hey… Nida. He
still loves you like the fool he is."

When the man
disappeared into the rain there was nothing Seifer could do. He had
told the paramedics that Nida was to be found dead, that he was
putting the man into a witness protection program. He had let the
sham continue. He had been the one to lie to Squall all this time. He
was the one who was failing to catch Rei, who had somehow escaped the
warehouse while Nida had been pinned under a burning beam. He had let
Nida go with no way of bringing him back.

Yet, as the wind
changed direction, Seifer could have sworn that he heard a faint 'As
do I'. Maybe, just this once, it was enough.

"Rest in peace Nida,"
he said, kicking the stone at last. It was time to let sleeping dogs
lie.

With Seifer gone the
place became average once more. Averagely shaped stones of averagely
plain colors with averagely plain writing. And still, amid it, there
was the one thing that was different, the marker of a man that had
been great once, who had given the life he had known for a man he had
loved.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.